Supersoaker
by wendybirb
Summary: Craig has problems at home and decides to go on a road trip to try and escape. Clyde tags along and maybe helps Craig find himself along the way. (Eventual Cryde.)
1. You Gotta Story You Never Tell

AN: Alright, it appears I'm still in the fandom and do ship Cryde very much. I blame tumblr for throwing this pair at me again. I did miss them. This will be a multi-chapter and also a bit of a vent fic for me, so hopefully it's not terrible. I have big ideas for it, so please review!

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The night air is chilly. It's always chilly. I pull my jacket tighter around myself to try and ward off the cold, but it doesn't help much. The cold has already seeped in to my bones. Hell, my soul is probably a block of ice at this point. At least, that's what my mother always tells me.

Speaking of mothers, I haven't gotten along with mine in a long while. If I'm honest with myself, I can't remember the last time we had a civil conversation. I can't remember the last time she hugged me. No, lately it's all been screaming and arguing or just plain ignoring each other. Along with the occasional brawling cage match that all Tucker's seem to be capable of.

I still love my family, it's never been about that, but ever since my dad died, it's been nearly unbearable living them. It's almost like he was the one line anchor stopping our family from drifting out to sea. But now he's gone, and we're all stuck in the Atlantic with no navigation and no life boats.

Now I'm wandering the streets of South Park in the middle of the night trying to find my own lifeboat. I've been spending all my days at Stark's Pond carving my initials into anything I could dig my pocket knife into. I'm pretty sure every tree, bench, and picnic table has been signed at this point. I used it to keep my mind off everything going on around me. And it worked for a while, but lately I've felt the need to move on to something better. Something more permanent.

I've had this plan for months now to just pack everything and leave. The longer I've stayed, the more I've realized there's nothing left for me here. I've been trying everyday to paddle myself back to shore, but every time I blink, I end up back where I started, caught in the middle with no shore in sight.

Now my arms are tired, so I know it's time to make some changes. My dad always used to tell me that if I'm unhappy, I can't just sit around and wait for things to get better, I need to fix it myself. I doubt he ever thought I would use his advice to talk myself into running away but thing haven't exactly been normal lately.

By the time I make it back to my house, it's well past midnight. I forego the front door, I know my mom locked it behind me, and make my way to the trellis, hoisting myself up to my bedroom window.

I've used the trellis to sneak out of my room hundreds of times to either escape groundings or go to last minute sleepovers at Clyde's or Token's. Why my parents never thought to take the thing down is beyond me, but I'm not one to complain.

Now that I'm in my room for what may be the last time, I'm frozen. I look at all my belongings, my bed, my guinea pig, the pictures of friends I've taped to my walls over the years.

I feel small standing there, like I'm eight years old. I feel like my life is ending, and I guess in a way it is. I want to cry, but I've never been one for that. I've never been an emotional person. No one in my family is. We carry our emotions in our middle fingers, something that used to get me in a shit ton of trouble as a kid.

Showing any type of emotion has always been weird to me. Even when I dated Red for two years, she said I acted like a robot. I barely bat an eye when she broke up with me. My best friend, on the other hand, can cry at the drop of a hat. He says he wishes he were more like me, but I honestly wish I were more like him. Maybe life would have been easier if I could have shown how I was feeling.

I could have told my parents I love them, I could have cried when my dad died. I feel like a freak sometimes because there are days I feel nothing.

Before I know it I have my suitcase dug out of my closet and all my clothes haphazardly thrown in. I need to make this quick before I start to regret things. I pack everything I think I might need, my clothes, phone, chargers, a few of my books, and my camera. I grab Stripe III's cage last and make my way downstairs as quietly as possible. I throw all my stuff in my truck and strap the cage in the passenger seat before I notice someone watching me from down the sidewalk.

Clyde shuffles a few steps closer to me, his hands shoved in the pockets of his letterman jacket. I don't know why he wears that thing anymore. We graduated over a year ago. It's almost like he's trying to hold onto his former self when he was in his prime.

Clyde was the king in high school. He shed all his baby fat in the tenth grade and went on to win all the football games and the hearts of all the girls. They all thought his 'sensitivity was sexy' or some shit like that. He nearly rivaled Kenny in the amount of sex he had. Those days ended as soon as high school did though. Most of the people we knew left for college. The only people left in South Park now are us two, Tweek, Kenny, and Bebe. Tweek's okay to hang out with sometimes, but Kenny and Bebe are unbearable. They're usually too busy fucking each other to spend time with anyone else anyway.

Clyde and I have always been close, but I feel like our relationship definitely changed once high school ended. Before there was always Token and Tweek and occasionally Jimmy or Kevin when we spent time together, but now that everyone's moved on, we've had a lot of time to get to know each other one on one. I think I've learned more about Clyde and his family in the past year than I had the entire time we were in school. I can honestly say now that he's the best friend I've ever had and probably will ever have again. I can't imagine my life without him. Which is when it hits me.

"You want to go on a road trip?"


	2. You'll Think I'm Dead, But I Sail Away

Clyde blinks at me, his eyebrow raised and steps a little closer. "A road trip to where?"

He still has his hands in the pockets of that stupid jacket. I shrug. "Anywhere. Somewhere warm preferably."

Clyde's eyebrow raises even more as he takes a look behind me at all the junk piled in my truck. "Dude, that's a lot of stuff you have packed. How long were you planning on going?"

I sigh and roll my eyes, turning toward my truck. "Are you coming or not?" As if I even need to ask.

Clyde looks annoyed for a split second before giving in, taking a step back. "Fine, but I have to pack first."

I watch him hurry back home as I climb into the driver's seat. I knew he would agree to come with me if I asked. Clyde always goes along with my plans even if he thinks they're stupid at first. He's always been loyal like that. I also know he doesn't have the best home life either. There's something about a dead parent that really throws a wrench in the family dynamic.

He comes back with two packed suitcases and a duffle bag slung over his shoulders. I think he knows I'm not planning on coming back. He throws his stuff in the back seat and tries to climb in the passenger seat before he notices the cage.

"Are you gonna move Stripe?"

"It's Stripe III, and no. The middle seat belt doesn't work. Just climb over."

Clyde shimmys his way into the middle seat and plops down next to me. "The seatbelt doesn't work, so you're gonna have me sit here. I feel so loved."

I laugh and start the truck, pulling away from the curb. "You know I love you."

"Of course you do. I'm your favorite." I feel his hand on my arm and glance at him for a split second. All I find is a mix of concern and sadness. "You know I'm here for you, right?"

I don't know what to say for a second. I don't really want to say anything, but Clyde's hand is still on my arm and that's more comforting than he'll ever know. "You're here aren't you?"

He squeezes my arm before letting his hand drop. I miss the warmth immediately. I feel him settle a little closer to me on the seat, but he doesn't say anything else.

I've never told Clyde how I feel. I'm sure he knows, but I also know he likes hearing that sort of thing. He likes to know he's needed and that people care about him. I wish I could tell him more often just how much he means to me, but the idea is always daunting. Playing it off as a joke is what comes natural, but as soon as things get serious, I freeze up.

Truth is, Clyde is the best thing that's ever happened to me. We've been friends since preschool, and he's never once turned his back on me. He follows me everywhere without question, and he's everything I'm not. Everything I wish I could be.

"Can we stop for nachos?"

I pull up at a stoplight and turn to look at Clyde. He's digging through my CDs, probably trying to find something he can sing along to.

He pops a CD in. The light turns green.

"Where are we gonna get nachos this late?"

I see Clyde looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but he doesn't answer my question. No, the music has started, so now he's too busy singing at the top of his lungs to answer any questions I might ask. Clyde might be a goofy jock, but the guy can sing. It came as a huge surprise the first time I heard him singing in the shower. At first he was embarrassed, but now he sings in front of me whenever he wants.

I reach over to turn down the radio, and Clyde immediately voices his dissent. "I was listening to that!"

"We should probably think of a game plan."

"What sort of game plan?" Clyde contorts himself somehow so he can prop his feet up on the dash. I don't know how he managed it in this narrow ass cab. He's gotta be flexible.

"I don't know. Shit like where we're gonna stay, what we're gonna eat, where our destination is."

"Wait, wait, wait. You mean to say you dragged me out of my house in the middle of the night to drive across the country with absolutely zero plans at all?"

"Hey, I hardly dragged you out of your house. You left of your own volition. I gave you a choice, and you made it." I shoot a glare his way, and he at least has the decency to look sheepish.

I hear a sigh as Clyde rubs at his face. "I still have a lot of money saved up. We could stay in motels or something on the way."

I nod along. "I have money too." Thank you life insurance.

Clyde jiggles his foot on the dash and leans against my shoulder. "What about California? You said somewhere warm, and there's plenty to do there."

I bump Clyde with my shoulder and smile. "California it is."

The sun has been up a few hours by the time I pass a sort of not super shady looking motel. Clyde fell asleep on my shoulder an hour ago, and I can feel myself trying to follow suit. The sound of gravel under the tires wakes him up. I know he'll be as happy for a warm bed as I am.

"Where are we?" He stretches, letting loose a loud yawn.

"Bates Motel." He shoots me a look, and I laugh. "I'm kidding. It's just a shitty motel on the side of a highway. No budding serial killers, I promise."

Clyde narrows his eyes at me for a second before shaking his head, slipping around the passenger seat to get out. "As long as there's no cockroaches, I'm good."

I climb out my side of the truck and head around. "Stay here. I'll go check in." Clyde salutes me before turning his attention to Stripe III.

The lobby smells musty and is completely covered in floral. The walls and all the furniture have a faded floral pattern on them. I wonder if the rooms are the same. The man behind the desk grunts at me as I approach. "Checking in?"

I grab my wallet out of my jeans and nod. "Yeah, just for a night." I place my ID on the counter and look out the window. I can see Clyde out there leaning against the hood. He's still wearing the letterman jacket. I make a mental note to ask him later why he still wears it.

I sign a few papers and grab the room keys, heading back out to the truck to grab my stuff. Clyde's already dragging a suitcase out. "I'm so excited to sleep in a bed, you have no idea."

I reach around him to grab Stripe III's cage and my duffle bag, locking up my truck. " Yeah, me too. Here let's go through the side door. I don't want them to know I'm bringing my guinea pig in."

Clyde laughs and follows behind me, the wheels of his suitcase dragging in the gravel. "We're like the three musketeers. Two guys, one guinea pig."

"You definitely need some sleep, dude."

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A/N: I swear it won't always be this slow. The Cryde is coming eventually. This will be a bit of a slow burn though. I want to explore their friendship and closeness before diving into anything involving romance. Let me know what you think!


	3. And I'm Simple Selfish Son

A/N: This one's a little shorter and a lot angstier. Sorry about that.

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Clyde and I both collapse on the bed as soon as we enter the room. It's kind of small for two people, but we've shared close quarters before. I have Stripe III's cage set up on the dresser and all our bags strewn on the floor. I'm too tired to care where my stuff ends up. Clyde's asleep again before his head even hits the pillow.

I turn the tv on before curling up under the covers. The background noise was always a source of comfort at night. I've never been able to sleep in rooms that are dead silent, although I think Clyde's snoring is enough background noise for everyone.

The sheets are scratchy and the pillowcase is rough as I turn to face Clyde, but sleep still beckons. I don't think I've ever been so tired in my life. I'm asleep before my thoughts are able to drift anywhere else.

"Dad, I'm fine. I already told you where I am... I left that note for you. It's on the kitchen counter!"

I groan and rub my eyes, rolling over to look at the clock. A big, red 6:34 stares back at me. I can hear Clyde in the bathroom arguing with his dad, so I turn the tv up louder. I'm sure he doesn't want me hearing that.

I flip through channels for a long while but there's nothing interesting. Reality shows, more reality shows, and news. I finally find a channel that's playing an old animated flick and settle on that, crossing my feet at the ankles and settling back on the pillows. Clyde's still going at it with his dad, but I can't make out what he's saying anymore.

I knew from the beginning that something like this would happen. I never thought that stealing my best friend and driving across the country would go off without a hitch. I'm not that naive. Hell, I still don't know if this will even work out when we get to wherever we're going. We have money, sure, but no solid plans.

I fiddle with my shirt sleeve, staring at the bathroom door. Clyde is quiet now. I mute the tv. I don't think having the soundtrack for a kids movie playing in the background is all that appropriate.

Clyde steps out of the bathroom a moment later, and I know right away something is wrong. I hear a loud crash on the other side of the room. Clyde's phone lies in pieces on the floor. Clyde's never been an angry person. He's never been violent. He would sooner catch a spider and put it outside than kill it. That's another way we're opposite.

In school, I thought I was a big shot. I thought I could take on anyone to get my way. I was always in and out of the principal's office. I always had detention. I was an asshole, to say the least. I thought I could bring anyone down to their knees. I wanted to be the king. I wanted to make it so no one would dare mess with me.

Clyde's never been that way. He's always been a sweet guy. He used to get picked on in elementary school for crying too much, but in high school he was top dog. He didn't even have to try. Everyone respected him, and he didn't even have to fight for it. He walked the halls like he owned them, but he never once mistreated anyone. To say I envied him would be an understatement. To see him acting like this now is a shock, to say the least.

Clyde's shoulders are hunched, and he's breathing heavily, staring down at the broken pieces of his phone as if he's daring it to get back up. But all at once, the spell is broken. His shoulders loosen. His face crumples. He lets loose a sob, and I swear I feel my heart crack in two.

I crawl my way off the bed and cross the room before I can think of what to do next. Comforting has never been my strong suit, but Clyde's my best friend. I care about him more than I've ever cared about anyone. Normally that thought scares me, but now it only serves to calm my inner turmoil.

My arms are open, and I have Clyde pulled into my chest. He clings to me and I to him. A wetness is seeping into my shirt. I can feel it on my chest. Clyde cries openly. My heart breaks more and more.

I don't know how long we stand there. I watch the sun set behind the trees and the light in our shitty motel room fade. I watch the floral patterns on the walls dance around in the darkness. I feel the wetness on my chest and the scratchy carpet under my toes, and most of all, I feel my best friend in my arms. I hear his cries slowly taper to nothing. I feel the tremor in his shoulders fade. I feel his hair under my chin and his hands on my back. I feel the spears in my heart from seeing him so hurt. I want to say something, but my brain can't grip onto any semblance of a complete sentence.

Clyde pulls away slightly. His eyes are dark and red-rimmed. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and aims a watery smile at me and all at once I'm floored.

"Let's go get some dinner. I'm starving."

He takes my hand. I fall in love.


End file.
